


Just a Doll

by Gabriella_Marie



Series: Dolls [1]
Category: The Dolls of New Albion: A Steampunk Opera - Shapera
Genre: Angst, Dolls (The Dolls of New Albion), Gen, I'm not good at summarizing but trust me it's really good, Objectification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 22:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11000721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriella_Marie/pseuds/Gabriella_Marie
Summary: At his daughter's funeral, Jasper starts thinking about what it is to be a Doll





	Just a Doll

He was there at his daughter’s funeral. Not of his own volition, of course. Steel is something that can barely bend, can barely move. He stood at the back alongside the other Dolls, placed there by the boy he now belonged to, who inherited him from his darling Fay. The boy didn’t belong to anyone of course. He was a person. He was a Doll. He thinks he remembers being a person once, belonging to his family and his wife, yes, but ultimately belonging to himself.

But at this point, he’s been a Doll longer than he’s ever been a person. More familiar with searching with song, the few words and ideas available on the few radio stations in the city than the freedom to shape a mouth, being able to communicate anything at all in the world, that is if anyone actually realized he was trying to communicate. He barely remembers the way he moved as a person, so quick, fleet-footed, taking the small movements (even the large) for granted, so different from the way Dolls move, each movement painstakingly meted out, unimaginable amounts of concentration and focus.

He stands beside the other Dolls, together, yet separate. Just as they are unable to communicate with people, they are unable to communicate with each other, in solidarity, yet each Doll trapped in their own mind.

He wanted to die, had wanted to from the moment he was brought back. Annabel, at least, had listened, had understood. But then he had been brought back again, had had to accept the reality. He was just a Doll, would always be a Doll. He couldn’t kill himself, and no one would let him die, no matter how much he begged, how much he was ignored. He was owned, he didn’t belong to himself. No, first he had belonged to Annabel, then Fay and Edgar, and now the boy, Byron, but not to himself, never to himself. He was an object, a decoration, a Doll. He wanted to die, but he couldn’t. Because after all, he was just a Doll. Would always be just a Doll.


End file.
